


Missed

by VeryImportantDemon



Series: Hamilton AUs [6]
Category: Hamilton - Miranda
Genre: Alexander is not an asshole, Alternate Universe - Soulmates, Gen, M/M, Modern AU, Sick Thomas Jefferson, Thomas Jefferson is a cat person, You see black and white until you kiss your soulmate, then you see color until they die
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-12
Updated: 2017-08-12
Packaged: 2018-12-14 11:40:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11782401
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/VeryImportantDemon/pseuds/VeryImportantDemon
Summary: Thomas Jefferson and Alexander Hamilton don't get along. This is pretty much common knowledge to anyone who has seen the pair together. But contrary to popular belief, Alexander does have a heart, even if all he sees is black and white.





	Missed

Alexander hadn't seen Thomas all day. Where the fuck was he? His car was in the parking lot, so he knew he was here. He was definitely here. But the real question was where was he, because no one had seen him all day, not even George Washington. No one had seen him. However, he owed Alexander some paperwork, and Alexander was not going to be late giving that presentation because of Thomas fucking Jefferson. He was going to get that fucking paperwork.

He hammered on the door to Jefferson's office with a closed fist becaus rid course the door was locked. "Hey, man," he yelled. "Open the fucking door, I know you're in there! I need the shit for the Miranda case yesterday!" He smacked on the door again with a fist but all he heard was a low whimper, so quiet he almost missed it. Thomas Jefferson didn't make those sounds. He didn't think he'd heard Thomas make a noise that wasn't yelling or swearing... ever.

Alexander stopped his hand a few centimeters away from connecting with the door. "Jefferson?" he asked, his hand lingering close to the door. Contrary to popular belief, he was not heartless, though he may have appeared that way. If something really was wrong... He trailed off, chewing on his bottom lip. "Hey, man, c'mon. Are you still alive?"

The only response was a quiet groan.

Okay, something was wrong. He glanced down at the bottom of the door and noticed there was no light coming from the little sliver of space. He had all he lights off, too. Alexander's brow furrowed. "Seriously, Jefferson," he said. "Come on. Come on, are you okay?" There was no response this time, not even a noise.

Alexander's heart started beating quicker. Something was very wrong, and he needed to get in there. He crossed the hall to his office, dragging one of his not-rolling chairs over to the doorframe. He climbed on top of it, scanning the top of the door frame. Jefferson kept the spare key up there because no one else could reach it. It was a flimsy plan at best, but typically they didn't lock their office doors at all. Washington had banned that. Finding the key, Alexander climbed off the chair, pushing it aside. He shoved the key in the doorknob, turning it and flinging the door open.

He definitely didn't see what he expected to see. He wasn't really sure what he expected to see. But it wasn't Thomas Jefferson hunched over his desk with his arms over his head, the blinds pulled and every light off. "Hey," Alexander said, frowning. "Hey, man, are you alright?"

"Go 'way," Jefferson said finally, his voice tiny and even tinier because it was muffled. "Get it... tomorrow. Lemme sleep..." Well, Alexander couldn't do that. He hated him, of corse. He totally hated Thomas Jefferson. Who wouldn't? But he couldn't even leave his enemy like this. "I'm not leaving," Alexander said. "Not until you tell me what's going on and how do I fix it."

Thomas didn't even shift his weight, still hunched over his desk. He only waited a few moments before he spoke again. "Migraines," he said finally. "Bad." Bad. Well, no shit, Alexander thought. "Okay," he prompted, "how do I fix them?" Thomas whined, the noise low in his throat. It was pitiful, and Alexander felt his heart break. This really was sad. "Can't," he said. "Took medicine. Not working."

Well, that totally sucked, Alexander thought. Maybe it was... Maybe it was time to go home. Home always made Alexander feel better. "Do you wanna go home?" Alexander asked. "I can give you a ride. Do you wanna go home?" Jefferson didn't move or speak or make any other noises for a while, but finally he spoke in a depressingly tinny voice. "Yeah."

Okay. Now how did he get Thomas Jefferson into his car? That was the next question. He squeezed Thomas' shoulder gently. "You're gonna have to work with me," he said. "Let's get up. Can you do that? Let's get up. I'll hold your arm in case you fall." He gripped Thomas' upper arm and tried not to think about it too much. Thomas started to move, very slowly like a computer booting up. His eyes were still screwed shut and he made a noise a lot like a whimper when he had to open them. "Hurts," he whispered. Alexander held a little tighter to his arm. "I know, man," he said. "I know, I know. Let's get you outside and into my car, then we'll get you home, okay?" Thomas didn't nod in response but he stood up regardless.

Alexander needed to shift his grip on the ailing man because he wouldn't exactly reach that high anymore. He opted for holding his elbow with one hand, the other arm supporting his waist. Thomas was stumbling completely blindly because he wouldn't open his eyes again.

It took a few minutes to make the trek, but eventually they arrived at the car. Alexander shifted Thomas' weight so he could unlock it and open the door. "Go on, Thomas," he said. "You can have the whole back seat." Thomas shambled into, still wincing in pain, his cheeks sticky and wet with tears. "You used to," he whispered, "call me Jefferson."

For some reason, that stuck with Alexander as he climbed into the front seat. He drove as quickly but quietly as could to Thomas' home. He only knew where it was because James who was visiting Virginia had texted him the address. The drive was far too long and far too tense, and Alexander was briefly thankful for the fact that the green light was always on the bottom and the red always on the top because he couldn't see color yet. He hadn't kissed his soulmate yet.

They finally arrived at the apartment building. "Of course you're the penthouse," Alexander said, mostly to himself.

It was another long process before he managed to get Thomas out of the car and into the elevator, the hulking man mumbling under his breath. But eventually they arrived at the door. Thomas reached into his pocket, his hand trembling, and offered Alexander the key. Alexander frantically unlocked it, flinging the key onto the table just inside the door and grabbing Thomas again.

The apartment was enormous, a huge living room with a line of window on one wall and doors that led to other rooms. That wasn't surprising. Most surpring was the cats that greeted them at the door. There were four of them, a large striped one and a large spotted one followed by two smaller kittens. Thomas Jefferson had cats? Whatever. He'd worry about that later, he needed to get him laying down soon, because he really didn't look too good.

"Which one's your bedroom?" he asked. "Thomas, which door?" Thomas whimpered quickly again. "Don't use it," he said. "Sleep on... Couch." To each his own, Alexander supposed. He supported Thomas over to the couch before gently lowering him. He immediately proceeded to shove his face into a pillow. "Windows," he croaked. Alexander understood, luckily, and crossed the living room to pull the curtains over them. Thomas seemed to relax a little when the blinds were pulled, and when Alexander turned around, the two larger cats were sprawled across his back, the two smaller ones mewling softly because they couldn't get up on the couch.

"Do you need anything else?" Alexander tasked anxiously. "Anything, Thomas?" Thomas swallowed hard, not quite looking up, but Alexander got the sense the ailing man was listening anyway. "No," he said softly. "Jus'... Why? You used to... Used to call me... Jefferson." Why was that sticking with him? "I'm not heartless," Alexander said. "I wasn't going to leave you there suffering like that. Last names seemed a little impersonal in that situation."

Thomas went quiet again, and he didn't speak for a long time. "Merci," he said finally, and Alexander nodded slightly. "Merci," he echoed. "Call me if you need anything while Madison is out of town."

Thomas didn't speak again, not until Alexander had left. "Come back," he said quietly, but it was too late.

A few days later, Alexander was working quietly in his office. Thomas hadn't been to work in awhile, since Alexander had taken him home that day. There was a knock on the door and tall and imposing and in Alexander's doorway, there was George Washington. "I'll get the Miranda stuff to you as soon as possible. Jefferson never got back to m-" Washington cut him off. "Thomas Jefferson's dead," he said.

Alexander stopped. "What?" he said, looking up sharply. "I'm sorry, what? He's what?" Washington swallowed again. "He's dead," Washington repeated. "Madison returned from his trip to Virginia and stayed at his apartment with him for a few days. Yesterday afternoon, he... He went to sleep, and he didn't wake up. Madison said he had a brain tumor diagnosed a few months ago. It was too far gone to be operable and he didn't want anyone to know."

Didn't want anyone to know... "Jesus," Alexander whispered. As much as they disagreed, Alexander didn't want him dead. He felt a pang of loss deep in his chest. He'd been one of the last people to see him alive.

Alexander dressed in his best for the funeral. The really depressing part was that there wasn't many people there. A smal smattering of stiffs in suits, George and Martha Washington, Lafayette, Aaron and Theodosia Burr, and James Madison. The cats were there, however, the four Alexander had seen. The two small ones were curled up beside Thomas' b- beside Thomas in the casket, crying and seemingly trying to get him to wake up. James Madison reached inside and pulled them out, hugging them to his chest. "I know," Alexander could hear with whisper. "I know you miss him. I know."

Alexander swallowed, approaching them. "Uh... James?" Madison looked up. "Yeah?"

"Aren't you allergic to cats?" Madison shrugged. "Yeah," he said. "But they're what's left of my best friend. I'll take care of them for him." His eyes were puffy and red, but James deserved to cry. They'd been best friends since they were children.

Alexander swallowed hard again. This whole thing got more and more depressing the longer he was here. "I'll let you... Say your thing." Cradling the kittens, the other two sleeping beside the casket on the ground, James stepped away.

Alexander didn't want to look. But when he did... Thomas looked exactly the same as he always did. He tried to speak, wanted to speak, but his mouth wasn't opening and his words wouldn't work. He leaned over the edge of the coffin, gently pressing a kiss to his old enemy's forehead. His eyes were closed, so he didn't notice the way Thomas' suit suddenly became purple. When he pulled away and opened his eyes, the colors faded and he got the sense that he had missed something.

Something important.


End file.
